Death, and What Follows
by tetsia.howard
Summary: A series of drabbles, based on the Guardians' first kills. Some pairings, some friendships, some randomness shall ensue. Based on an idea from my wonderful PrincessxThexRipper
1. The Rain

The room was starting to fill with smoke. Once again, Hayato had gone overboard. Takeshi grinned as he fought his way back to the silveret, following the sounds of small explosion. "Maa maa, Dera… don't you think you've blown enough up?"

"Have they stopped coming, yakyuubaka?" The bomber turned to glance at the swordsman. Takeshi knew he was checking him over for obvious injury. No matter how many times they fought together, Dera always had to…

Takeshi's thought, and heart stopped dead. While Hayato was checking him over, a member of the rival family had snuck up behind him. Without thinking, Takeshi reacted, shoving his sword through the man's chest and swiping upwards. He and Squalo had practiced the move thousands of times by now, though he'd never had to use it. He had to admit, the blood spray was kinda cool… in a disturbing way. As the man slumped to the floor, Hayato grabbed his arm and drug him away. Loud explosions behind him explained WHY they were suddenly fleeing.

When they had gotten out of range of the bomber's explosions, Hayato turned him around, staring up at him. "You all right, Takeshi?"

The swordsman blinked, looking down at the silveret. They'd been lovers for a couple years, and Hayato NEVER called him by his first name outside of their room. "Uh, ha ha… yeah….?" He scratched the back of his head in confusion.

Hayato's mouth opened and closed a couple times before he finally got the words out. They seemed to be almost painful for the smaller man to say. "Yakyuubaka… you DO realize you just killed someone, right?"

Takeshi rolled his eyes and started walking, knowing the Storm would keep up. "Yeah, and…?"

"Takeshi, you just KILLED someone! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

The taller man sighed and turned, catching the silveret with a hand. "Dera, I am aware of that fact. My question remains. So what? If I hadn't, he'd have killed you." Takeshi knew he couldn't have handled that.

Hayato looked up at him, probing him with his eyes. "That's… not normally something you're supposed to shrug off, Takeshi." It was obvious he was worried, and the swordsman was touched… it wasn't often that his Dera was blatant with his affection.

"Hayato, I'm fine. Squalo and I have been training for a couple of years now. And wasn't it you always saying how dangerous the Mafia was? I knew it was going to happen eventually… I'm just glad it was protecting you."

* * *

AN: This is gonna be a multi-chapter drabble, so keep an eye out for the next installment.


	2. The Sun

He stared at his hands, absently noting that the bindings were coming undone. They were starting to turn a dingy brown; the blood had soaked through and was cooling on his skin. He flexed his fists as he walked inside. The way the congealing liquid stretched his skin made him nauseous. Without a word to anyone, he made his way up to his room. A shower would help… anything to clean the blood.

Takeshi sat up quickly when he came in, concern etched across his normally happy face. "Ryo-kun?"

He couldn't deal with his lover… not when he was covered in blood… Not when he could feel it soaking into his… He ran for the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before throwing up violently.

Less than a minute later, he felt Takeshi's cool, calloused hand run across the back of his neck. When he was finished, Takeshi helped him up, handing him a glass of water. He didn't even realize he was crying until the swordsman wiped his cheek. "Ryo-kun, what happened?"

"I was… ambushed. Right off the plane." The boxer shuddered, closing his eyes as the images swept through his mind. It really was a curse, he decided, that the only things he could remember with complete accuracy and clarity were fights. "I… God, Takeshi… I didn't want to kill him, but… he just… he wouldn't stop. And then… and then…" Ryohei dropped his head, sobbing softly.

The brunet pulled the older boxer into his arms, holding him tightly. As his sobs shook both of them, a few tears slipped down Takeshi's cheeks, his heart breaking for the broken man he loved.

After a bit, the Sun guardian calmed, his sobs turning into soft hiccups. "I- I promised Kyoko I wouldn't… I wouldn't fight like that anymore. I'm sorry…" He buried his head in his lover's neck, whispering 'I'm sorry' over and over again.

Takeshi looked him over, kissed his forehead and pulled him back out into the bedroom. He carefully steered him to a chair. The boxer sat, too bewildered and overwhelmed to even question the swordsman's actions.

When he returned with a bowl of water and his tape, Ryohei flinched. He didn't want the younger man to see… he was so ashamed…

Takeshi was not taking no for an answer. As soon as the silveret pulled his hand away, he grabbed it. The battle of wills that followed was quick: Ryohei had none left at the moment. As the brunet carefully unwrapped his stained bindings and tossed them away, the boxer's tears fell again; they were softer, more regretful as he closed his eyes. He couldn't stand to watch the disgust on his lover's face.

He could feel him washing his hands and wondered if there was really enough water in that bowl… or in the whole mansion… to clean the blood from them. What startled him was when, instead of tape and gauze, he felt his lover's lips on his knuckles.

"T-takeshi? Don't…"

"Don't what?" The ex-baseball star kissed his knuckles again, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

"They're… dirty, Takeshi… I'm…" Ryohei whimpered softly, feeling absolutely ANYTHING but extreme at the moment.

"They're not dirty, Ryo-kun. They're a part of you, and you could never be dirty." The brunet leaned up and kissed the boxer deeply, holding him to keep him from pulling away.

Ryohei knew, somewhere inside him, that if Takeshi had pulled away, had turned from him, had walked out… the boxer wouldn't have made it out of the bathroom. Falling into his lover's hungry kisses felt like being saved. And when he was inside him, with the swordsman wrapped in his arms, he finally felt alive again.

And when they lay together, after chasing each other over the edge of bliss amidst cries of each other's names; when Takeshi whispered in broken, tear filled sentences how glad he was that Ryohei was alive, that he'd come back to him… the boxer finally understood what his promise to Kyoko really meant. He knew that he wouldn't be able to avoid fighting, or killing… but he could do his best to always come back to the people that relied on him.


	3. The Lightning

Smoke still curled from the gun in his hand and everything had slowed down to a crystal clear sharpness he wished he could blink away. Everything was happening in sharp relief. Tsuna-nii, whirling around in fear at the sharp crack of the gun, his eyes widening as he realized who held it. Bakadera whipped around too, scowling. Every detail so focused, he knew he'd never be able to forget.

The worse was the hitman. He had gone from sneering, egging the Bovino youth on, to missing half his face. The blood spray across the wall reminded Lambo of the air-brush painting he and I-Pin had done as a child. The body slowly, slowly dropped to its knees and then onto the floor face down. No more sneers now…

And suddenly, the gun was knocked out of his hand and time sped back up again as Reborn spun him away from the death and wrapped his arms around him. "You stupid fucking cow, what were you thinking?!" The ex-Arcobaleno sounded mad, but Lambo knew that only happened when he was really scared. He'd watched him take on almost a hundred men with that same angry tone when they had been ambushed once… He shook his head, realizing his mind was wandering. Probably not a good sign for his mental health, really.

"He was going to shoot Tsuna-nii. What was I supposed to do?" He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and closed them, trying not to cry. He really was too old to be such a baby… Then Reborn's hand was on the back of his head, pressing his face into his shoulder. He could feel his big brother's smaller hand on his back and even the bomber's 'tch' from his side was a gentle comfort. With a small sob, he clung to Reborn's suit, shaking in grief.

"Stupid cow… I'm sorry…" Even as close as they were, Lambo knew the other two couldn't hear the hitman's words. So he didn't argue when Reborn picked him up and growled at the Sky and the Storm to get moving. He kept his face buried, not wanting to see, or think, anymore.

When they were in the backseat of the car, Reborn barked at Tsuna-nii and Bakadera to keep their eyes on the road, he'd deal with the damned stupid cow. Neither of them thought to disobey him, for which Lambo was eternally grateful… he couldn't handle their pity or their judgment right now.

When Reborn gently pulled him away from his shoulder, the last thing Lambo expected to see was concern. And when the hitman's handkerchief came away from his skin wet with tears and blood, the Bovino was surprised to see his hand shake slightly.

Not a word was said from anyone until Bakadera announced that they were home. Lambo knew something was wrong. It had taken them a couple hours to drive to the target's warehouse…. but only minutes to get home? And Reborn was picking him up again, cradling him almost tenderly as they walked into… their bedroom? What the hell…

"Stupid cow, look at me." Reborn lifted Lambo's chin, and he absently wondered when the hitman had put him down. It took his slowed brain a few minutes to register it, but he realized he was losing time somewhere, and he looked up at the ex-Arcobaleno in confusion, hoping he had some answers. "R-reborn…?"

"It'll be all right…"

The Lightning shook his head. Shooting someone wasn't being a shield. He didn't even remember where he'd gotten the gun from, but… He was supposed to stand in front of his Sky, not shoot people in the face. Not… he wrapped his arms around his stomach, curling up around them as sudden, wracking sobs ripped through him. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, all he could do was cry and scream and see that half-blown-away face staring back at him.

Reborn watched him for a moment before nodding and putting his arms around him. The quiet crying from earlier had scared the hitman far more than he cared to admit… he knew the damned cow was in shock, but those soft, broken sobs from his young lover made him want to hide any sharp objects he could find. Stronger men than Lambo had tried to erase what they'd done with suicide…

Lambo's crying shook them both, but Reborn just held him, rocking them gently. After probably the longest half hour in the hitman's life, the Bovino's tears slowed to wretched sniffles. When Reborn was sure the worst of the tears were over, he lifted Lambo's chin and kissed him softly.

"Reborn… I'm sorry… I failed…"

"Idiot fucking cow, you didn't fail at anything. Dame-Tsuna is still alive because you acted like a Guardian. Now pull it together." His words were cold, but Lambo could hear the worry in them, and it steadied him a bit.

"Is it… always this hard? To… kill someone?" He bit his lip, knowing his lover hated stupid questions.

"No. Unfortunately, the more you do it, the easier it gets. It shouldn't ever be easy, il mio polpaccio. It should always hurt, but it doesn't."

Lambo took a deep breath, tears still sliding down his cheeks as he nodded. "I don't think I want to do that again… unless I have to. Is that… all right?" He looked nervously at the older man, hoping he hadn't disappointed him with his squeamishness.

"If I had my choice, you'd never have to again. But this is the Mafia… so I'll simply say when it happens again, come to me." He'd known a long time ago that Lambo wasn't a hitman… a Guardian and eventually, the sweetest, most resilient lover he'd ever had… but never a killer. It was something he cherished about his cow, honestly. And when Lambo nodded in his arms, he felt a relief wash over him so fiercely it was actually an effort to keep from shaking.

It was a long time, for both of them, before Lambo stopped shaking. And they both knew this would happen again and again… neither of them had any false illusions that the Mafia was a world full of kittens and butterflies. But as Reborn laid him down gently, holding him in his arms and murmuring in soft Italian in his ear, the Lightning realized that he didn't need kittens… just his family and the deadly, devious hitman in his arms. And he'd do anything to protect them… even if he didn't always enjoy it.


End file.
